


something you build

by owedbetter



Series: a moment to be real [2]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anxiety, Book 4, F/M, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Set two days after "i'm still here"
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 08:01:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25539943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owedbetter/pseuds/owedbetter
Summary: All it takes is one thing to be different and the world is new again. And nothing will ever be the same.
Relationships: Katara/Zuko (Avatar)
Series: a moment to be real [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1848901
Comments: 68
Kudos: 614





	something you build

**Book 4** :

_Peace_

* * *

“ _Peace is not something you win once and it will stay that way forever—it is something you build._ ”

— _Grand Lotus Iroh_

* * *

No one knew what to do on the day after everything changed.

It was like trying to tell your lungs that there was a new way of breathing but the air still settled the same way in them, no matter how you breathed in. Part of the air will always taste like ash and smoke to those who knew the heat of the blaze first-hand, whose skin could not stop smelling like sulphur no matter how many times they tried to rub themselves clean.

Zuko’s first official order as Fire Lord was to send out word to every admiral, general, and captain—to every colonial governor and mayor. Hundreds of messenger hawks took to the red skies of nearly sunset, painting it a darker shade of blood, a boil of hawks like the citizens and guests of the Fire Nation had never seen, and all of them carried the same wax-sealed message: _By order of Fire Lord Zuko, the war is over. Stand down_.

Aang looked up at the sky and watched and listened to the echoing caw of the birds as they flew overhead. He was sitting beneath a willow tree, just along the edge of a turtleduck pond in the gardens of the Fire Nation Royal Palace. The guards by the gate were also looking skyward.

He took a deep breath with his head turned towards the sky, closed his eyes, and sighed.

“Hi, Aang.”

The voice came from behind him. His eyes, suddenly wide open. Aang straightened his back and did not turn. Dread sunk to his stomach like iron in an ocean, the sea rising in his throat, and he remembered what it was like to drown in endless water.

Inevitable, but you tried to fight the crashing waves anyway.

He looked down to his side, craning his neck and all he could see was her sandaled feet.

“Hey, Katara,” he said sombrely.

“I’ve been looking for you,” she said, crossing her legs as she sat next to him. He looked toward the water instead of her.

“Really?” he asked, voice high as he hoped against hope. His leg shook. “W-why?”

“I—” she hesitated. At the sound of her caught breath, Aang turned to look at her finally.

One look into those big, blue eyes told him all he needed to know and he knew what was coming. The rise and fall of his chest felt made him feel like a seasoned sailor on still waters, overlooking a turbulent storm up ahead, with no land in sight. He didn’t want to believe it.

And then she said, “I needed to talk to you about something.”

“Oh?” he asked, heart pounding now.

“And I don’t think it’d be right if you heard it from anyone else.”

“Oh.” His shoulders dropped anchor-deep, all his split-second lightness with them. Now came the peace of sinking. He only nodded, feeling his eyes start to water and he looked to the pond again, and softly said, “I think I already know.”

“You do?”

He shrugged. “Sokka and Suki kind of already talked to me about… stuff.” He turned his head to look at her. “About you.”

“Is that why you’ve been avoiding me all day?” she asked. She fiddled with her hands on top of her lap. “What did they say?”

“Not much,” he said, shrugging again. “They asked me some things that made me, you know… think.” A pause. Aang ripped some pieces of grass from where he was sitting and threw them into the water. The air blew them back.

“What do you want?” he asked. No malice, no accusation—the purest curiosity.

“What?” Katara raised a brow.

“I’ve never asked you what it is you wanted,” he explained. “After everything we’ve been through, from the very first day—you’ve always taken care of me. You’ve done so much for me. And I _love_ you,” he said. “But it never… it never occurred to me to—to ask _you_. To be _that_ for you.”

“It’s never been your job to take care of me—” she started, putting a comforting hand to his shoulder.

“But that’s what I mean,” he said, shrugging away her touch as if it were iron-hot kindness. He bent a little lower, pulling more grass. “And even if it was, I don’t know the first thing about… all of that. Actually being with somebody.”

“We’ve been busy, Aang, I don’t want you to think that—”

“We’ve never been too busy for me not to ask. You two clearly weren’t,” he said. The last phrase married with a mouthful of venomous spite but he swallowed it quickly. Aang grit his teeth and forced himself to breathe deeply. “I can see that now.”

“There was so much on your shoulders,” she said. The softness of her voice made him want to scream. Every atom in his body ached for the comfort of her embrace, the last remnants of strength of a drowning man with lungs that still had one last breath to burn, but he stilled himself, his hands balled into fists. He exhaled and took in water.

“You had to save the world,” she said.

“But I’m not the one who saved you,” he said, a tear falling from one eye. “Not like he did.”

 _‘Deny it’_ , he prayed as he looked her straight in the eye. ‘ _Say I’m wrong—say you don’t know what I’m talking about. Say it._ Please.’

Katara looked at him with wide eyes, lips parted. Unmoving. The hurt, evident.

“I don’t love him just because he saved me,” she said.

Aang looked away, back down on the grass beneath his hands, closed his eyes, and sighed.

“I know that,” he said quietly. “But that _is_ what you wanted to talk to me about, right?”

“Yes,” she said. Neither of them looked at each other and only sat together. They looked to the sight of the tranquil turtleduck pond, light gently dancing on top of the still, serene surface of shallow water. A soft breeze blew through the garden, sending a chill up his spine. Katara continued. “You knew?”

“No, not really,” he replied. “Not until right now. Sokka and Suki tried to break it to me gently, I guess. But part of me didn’t want to believe it.” A beat. “Have you guys told anybody yet?”

“No,” she said. “We both thought you should be the first person to know.”

“And you’re happy?” he asked. He looked up at her and she looked at him with bright, gleaming eyes. She was smiling.

“I am,” she said.

“And if… if I asked you not to be with him,” he started. “Would you do it?”

Her smile vanished just as quickly as it came.

“ _Aang,_ ” she said in a tone that made him turn cold. The light shifted in the way her eyes turned wide. He felt her pull away, just a fraction of space. Something in him knew that that was the wrong thing to say. Ice-like fear shot through him like venom.

“No,” she said. “And asking me to do that… it would make me resent you.”

“No, no, I know, I _know_ , I wasn’t really asking you to,” he said, unable to say the word fast _enough_. He had a hand on her knee, his eyes pleading for her to stay. “I would never! I was just…” he tried again. She exhaled and stayed still. “It hurts.”

“I know,” she said, putting her hand on his shoulder again. He did not shrug it off now. He only breathed deep. Katara pulled him into her arms, a gentle embrace, and tears burned in his eyes. He held her back just as tightly.

It did not feel like goodbye.

He pulled away first.

“Why isn’t he here?” he asked, wiping tears from his eyes. He thought he could see relief shining in her eyes.

“He’ll talk to you later,” she said. “It was only right that _we_ talk this first. Just you and me.”

“It’s how this whole thing started,” he said, laughing a little despite himself. “This story. It was you and me. You brought _me_ back too.” His gaze drifted to a space next to her, staring at nothing in particular but it was just enough to pull away from her eyes. “I thought that’s how it was supposed to end.”

“I’m going to be honest, there were times when I thought so too.”

“You did?” he asked. “You _liked_ me?”

“Maybe,” she said, giving a quick shrug. “A little bit. At the start. There were a few times when it _sounded_ right in my head.”

“What happened?” he asked. “What did I do wrong?”

“It was nothing you did, Aang,” she answered. “It just never felt right. Not really.”

He nodded. “You always did say you were confused. I guess I just didn’t want to hear you,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

Her reply came as quickly as it always did. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

Above them, more birds took flight. Not messenger hawks, smaller ones that he couldn’t quite make out. They flew in a pattern that made no real sense to him but they appeared in crisscross lines, in haphazard groups, and they flew away together just the same, just as quickly.

“This isn’t how I imagined winning,” he said after a quiet moment.

“How _did_ you imagine it?” she asked. “What did you want?”

“I wanted _you_ ,” he said. “The reason I couldn’t master the Avatar state was because I love you, because I couldn’t let go of you then. I’m not sure how I’m supposed to do that now.” His hands found the hem of his robes and he fidgeted with the edges.

“But I wanted… I wanted…” he continued. “I wanted to feel like I belonged somewhere again. Like I was part of something. Like I was _home_.” He sighed. “I guess I never really imagined what it would be like after... _after_.”

“Me too,” she said. “The world in war is all I’ve ever known.”

“And the world I knew is dead,” he said. “Nobody knows what tomorrow’s going to look like.”

“How do you feel?”

“I… I don’t know,” he said. “Kind of restless. Lost.” He leaned back, hands behind him holding himself steady. “Glad that the war is over but… you know.”

“I know.”

Aang stretched his legs forward. The bare skin of his ankles could almost feel the water below.

“Are you going to stay here? In the Fire Nation?”

 _‘With him_ ,’ he didn’t say. But she could hear it.

“Sokka and I have to go home with our dad eventually,” was her answer. “You know you’re welcome to come with us when we go, if you want.”

“That’s the thing,” he said in rebuttal. “I would just be _coming with you_ , I wouldn’t be going _home_. I don’t _have_ one. I have nowhere else to go.”

Aang let his head drop back, closing his eyes shut as fresh tears threatened to burn through them again. “When I thought I had you, I thought I would have somewhere I belonged,” he said. “But now it’s like… it’s like I have nothing left.”

“That’s not true—” she tried.

“ _I want to go home_ ,” he choked out, his voice full of emotion. His teeth chattered. His fingers dug into the soft earth beneath him. His ears rang with the sound of his own blood rushing in his veins. And he cried, tears clawing their way out of his eyes. His shoulders shook and he forced himself to sit upright again. He pulled his knees up and put his hands on his head. “Everybody else gets one—what about _me_? Where do _I_ go?” He looked at her, his breaths heavy and hard as his lips trembled. “I want to go home too.”

“Aang—” she tried, tears in her eyes too, and that made him turn away.

“Just leave me alone,” he said, quickly standing up and furiously trying to wipe his tears away.

“ _Aang—_ ” she tried again, rising to her feet to meet him.

“I mean it,” he said. He sniffled and nodded to himself. “I… I need some time to myself right now. I need to think.”

She looked like she was thinking about it, as if she were thinking about if this would be the right course of action. Worry, clear as day, in those eyes—the only merciful ocean he’d ever known, kindly crying for his loss as he drowned at the sight of them.

“Okay,” she said finally. He was about to turn away when she continued. “But—just—just let me say…”

He waited in silence and watched her try to find the words. A thousand unspoken ones and he couldn’t hear her. He knew what he wanted for her to say but when he listened to his imagination, her voice didn’t sound like her. Not like she did right then.

“I… I can’t lose you,” she said. “I _can’t_.”

“You won’t,” he said, finding it a small smile could still come from his lips. “You’ll have me forever, I promise.” She smiled then too. He added, “We’ll talk again later, okay?”

“Okay,” she said, nodding.

“Thank you, Katara,” he said, brushing himself off. “Thank you… for letting me know.”

With one leap, he was ten feet in the air. Every step made her look farther away and with every step, he felt her slip away.

He took another, and another, and another.

* * *

Zuko was sat in the Fire Lord’s war chambers, thinking that the name would have to be redone now that there was no war—as would everything else it seemed. His mind raced as thought after thought flashed through his eyes and he could not quite figure out which of them to rest upon, which of them required the most immediacy. Restarting an entire nation’s ideology overnight was no easy task—but was that not the very point of him?

“Nephew, I brought you some calming tea. I thought you might need some and I want to hear all about your first council meeting as Fire Lord,” said his uncle as he walked into the room.

Zuko did not look up from his pile, unmoving.

How was he to lead his people into the path to peace when his own took too many wrong turns and too many detours? The Fire Nation could not afford to make his mistakes, he thought, and every decision rested sky-heavy on his shoulders.

He’d told Katara once that if they lost, things would be horrible for a while until the next people who want to try to make things right would try to do what they couldn’t. But they did, they won — so what happens next? Were they to wait for the next people who wanted to take things back into the fires of wartime?

“I have also asked the Fire Sages to get started on that request you wanted for young Aang… Zuko?” Iroh tried. He walked slowly towards him. But the Fire Lord sat still in his seat, his eyes reading over a sentence once, twice, and thrice over as if he were trying to commit it to memory.

Before him were stacks of papers and parchments. Some of them required his immediate signing, others were wartime laws that he would have work on to either amend or reverse completely. Many of the papers had legal jargon that might as well have been written in a different language for he couldn’t make heads or tails of them. He thought he was used to the fires that burnt in the Royal Palace but this was another kind of heat on him entirely.

See, the most inconceivable dream for him then was winning. It was either you win or you continue to live in the hell that you’d always known. But when all you knew was that hell, you tell yourself that the fire is comfortable, you tell yourself that you’re used to the stink of burning flesh, and you tell yourself that the light is no better than the smouldering darkness.

And now that they’ve won, he could see that he had failed to imagine the possibility that they would survive—that _he_ would survive. He failed to imagine what light even looked like.

“I take it the meeting was eventful?” Iroh tried again. Zuko closed his eyes and exhaled. Iroh set the tea tray next to his nephew and the young man nearly jumped up from his seat. “A copper piece for your thoughts?”

“Huh?” he asked, startled. His uncle’s face settled into view. Zuko clutched at his racing heart, something that tasted like acid rising up his throat, and swallowed loudly.

“S-sorry, Uncle—“ he coughed. “There’s just… there’s a lot of paperwork. And I never saw father doing any of this.”

“That’s because your father gave orders for others to do it for him. Other tasks were delegated to dedicated admirals and generals. He was never one to do the menial work himself. There are not many good things you can say about my brother but he knew to pass on what he couldn’t handle,” said Iroh. “Rather, what he thought was unimportant,” he added, chuckling to himself.

Zuko did not laugh.

Worry furrowed between his uncle’s brows as he looked at his face. He put a palm against his nephew’s forehead.

“You look pale, Zuko. Are you feeling alright?”

“I’m just tired,” he answered, gently pushing the hand away from his skin. He fought back the urge to roll his eyes. “It was a long day, that’s all.”

He knew why everyone was treating him like this, of course. He’d nearly died not even more than a week ago. His was a new heart and there were whispers and murmurs on what that might mean. He refused to listen to them but even he knew that the heart in his chest felt different. It was easier to tire him out now and it could race faster than he could remember it ever beating before. But he voiced none of these concerns out, already starting to resent the look of pity from those who thought him fragile—the same look they gave him when they looked upon his bandaged head when he was thirteen.

He knew better now, he thought. And he held no regrets.

But as it turns out, resentment knew how to hang on for years and years on end, only to reappear as something else entirely when you least expect it. And fear was its own kind of parasite god and it has a way of making it past your shadows and past its prayers. It held different faces and different forms. It was insatiable and it fed, and fed, and fed on your deepest secrets, on your worst dreams, on your most fragile pride. Most of all, it was patient beyond belief and beyond faith. It will find _something_.

And in Zuko, it found a feast of insecurity, cradled in the foreign rhythm of his battle-scarred but still-beating heart.

“Hmmm,” Iroh said. Thoughtful. He considered it for a moment and decided to put a hand on the younger man’s shoulder. When he spoke, he spoke slowly. Kindly.

“There is a lot for a young Fire Lord to do but that does not mean that it all has to be done _today_ ,” he said. “Peace is slow work, my son, and you have earned your rest for the day.”

“That’s unacceptable, Uncle,” Zuko replied, his voice rough in its misplaced rage, leaning towards his table while he brushed through his hair with his hands. It was snug where it was bundled together, the five-pronged crown keeping it tightly there. He gripped at what of his hair he could pull and settled his head’s weight on it. His eyes never left his papers.

“There’s so much to do and everybody wants answers,” he said. His words got faster as his heartbeats did. “What to do about the colonies, the military outposts and the soldiers that have been displaced and suddenly put out of work. Apparently there have been riots and looting from deserters in Earth Kingdom territories. Families want to know what’s happened to their sons and daughters after the attack. The western fishing villages haven’t had clean water in two years because of the weapons compounds and coal mines. With so many transport ships destroyed, there’s a surplus in harvest and hundreds of pounds of produce aren’t being sold. And they all want answers as soon as possible, and it’s all important, and I have to—”

“ _Zuko,_ ” said Iroh, kneeling before him as he pushed the Fire Lord’s chair away from the table. His grip was firm on each of his nephew’s shoulders, pulling him back to himself.

“I wish you could have been there, Uncle,” Zuko said in an almost whisper. “You would have known the right thing to say.”

“But I am not the Fire Lord. You are,” said Iroh. “And they need to see that. I hold no position in the council and it is doubtful the Earth Kingdom will take too kindly to my being reinstated in a position of any significant power. And I cannot have that for you.”

“I can’t fail,” he said firmly, hanging his head low. He swallowed. “I _won’t_.”

“Your intentions are honourable, Zuko. You must remember that you are only trying to do the right thing,” said Iroh. “But you must also remember _yourself_. You cannot leave your people without leadership if you fall into despair’s siren call.”

“But who am I to decide what the right thing is and what isn’t?” he asked. “What do _I_ know? I’ve made so many mistakes, Uncle. I can’t make them again now.”

“No one expects you to be perfect.”

“ _Yes_ , they do,” he argued. “Every delay, every hesitation, every wrong call could be a life lost, and that’s one life too many when we’ve already lost too much.” He took a sharp breath and he could not keep taking them. He did not feel himself pushing them back out again. “Uncle, how am I supposed to do this?”

“ _Zuko_ ,” Iroh tried again, squeezing his shoulder. “You are born from generations of Fire Lords. People born and raised to lead. You’ve been training for this your whole life. No one is more equipped for this than you are.”

“But all I’ve learned from everything that’s happened is that there’s so much I have to unlearn and even more that I don’t know! So much of what they taught us was wrong!” he said, pushing away his uncle’s touch and rising to his feet. His voice rose with him. “How do I build the right path to peace from the same tools that brought us a hundred years of war?”

Iroh stood too as Zuko paced the floor and rubbed his forehead. “The Air Nomads are all gone because of us. All that’s left of them are relics and a child that we’ve already asked too much of,” he said. “And it was _us_. It was _me_ —the Fire Lord. I—this position of power did that. How do I make something that wrong right again?”

“You don’t,” said his uncle. “Not all of it.” Zuko huffed and turned his head away. Iroh kept going. “The hurt born from generations will take generations longer to fix. But it takes one right thing and the next, and the next, and the next.”

The young Fire Lord shook his head and took in a deep breath. His uncle approached him, kind eyes looking up at his lost ones, and held him by the arm.

“Look at me,” Iroh tried. His golden eyes stayed lingering at the wall.

“Zuko, look at me,” Iroh tried again. He listened this time. Iroh nodded once and kept his eyes locked to his nephew’s. A kind smile, one of the worst of fear’s enemies, painted his uncle’s features. The air in his lungs felt like air again.

“Remember to breathe,” he said. Zuko swallowed and forced himself to listen. To follow. “Deeply. Slowly. Focus on your breath. Remember your training.” He did as he was told and kept his eyes locked to his uncle’s. “When you were trying to learn advanced firebending forms and I said no, what would I always say?”

“Re…” he tried to start. His words came out muttered and barely there. His chest felt too tight. “Remember the basics.”

“Precisely.”

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. His gold eyes went wide as he stared at it.

“Now is not a good time, could you come back later?” said Iroh.

“Is everything okay?”

Just as he nearly felt fear slip away from his veins, it came back tenfold at the sound of that voice.

At _her_ voice.

“Katara,” he whispered. “She can’t see me like this, she’ll worry—”

“She will see you regardless,” said Iroh, the knowing smile on his lips never faltering. “She’ll _worry_ regardless. As you do for her.” Zuko closed his eyes in resignation and sighed. His uncle called out, “Come in!”

Katara opened the door and saw Iroh holding Zuko by the arm. She paused, just for a second, and then she found her feet and walked briskly to him. He watched her come in and, already, something inside him started to break, started to loosen, and started to feel free again.

“Are you okay?” she asked, looking up at him.

He could only say, “I—”

He needn’t have said anything more as she leapt up to hold him, her arms around his neck and his hands settling around the small of her back. He buried his nose into the crook of her neck, inhaling the scent of her soft hair, and he sighed into her skin.

“I’ll leave you to it,” said Iroh, stepping away from them. Zuko could hear the smile in his voice. “You know his heart better than I do, Master Katara. I’ll have some tea sent up.”

They pulled away when they heard Iroh leave and close the door. Zuko chuckled and scratched the back of his neck. He cocked his head to the side, gesturing to the tray his uncle left on the table.

“He already came _in here_ with tea,” he said. She laughed a little but when he looked more closely at her, he could see the tinges of soreness in the whites of her eyes. He asked, “Have you been crying?”

“Yeah,” she said. “Came up to tell you. I told Aang.”

Zuko closed his eyes and nodded in understanding.

“Ah,” he said. “It just keeps coming, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah,” she agreed. “We knew it would, though.” Katara reached up to touch his cheek and he leaned into the warmth of her hand. The tips of her fingers just barely brushed the edges of his scar. He leaned forward to her, his forehead resting against hers. “What happened?”

“My first real meeting as Fire Lord,” he said softly. “A lot of different people wanting to know what happens next in a million different ways, and ‘peace’ isn’t exactly an answer to any of their questions. Not when I don’t have a real plan to make any of it happen. There was a lot of ‘ _and how do you expect us to do that, exactly?_ ’ and I had nothing real to say to them.” Zuko swallowed and bitterly admitted, “I really thought I could do this.”

“And you can,” she said, bright and soft. She reached with her other hand, holding his face in both of hers, and pushed her face closer to his. The tips of their noses just about touching. “But not on the first day and definitely not alone. _Never_ alone.”

Zuko tightened his hold around her waist. He exhaled an anxious breath through his nose and let himself be held by her. As she spoke, she brushed a gentle thumb over his cheeks. The movement calmed him. Warmed him like nothing else, not even realising that fear had made him cold. “Your uncle said something to me a few days ago and it stuck with me. Peace is not something you win once and it will stay that way forever. It is something you build,” she said. “And we'll build it _together_. Everybody needs help. With _everything_ , are you kidding? And there’s no shame in that.

“I’m here for you,” she continued. Her voice so quiet in this little room but still so clear and so close. “Now and always means _now_ … even when it’s hard. _Especially_ when it’s hard.”

“I couldn’t ask that of you,” he said. “You’ve been away from home for so long.”

“You don’t have to ask.”

“Don’t you want to go back?”

“Of course,” she said. “But before anything else, I’m your friend first. Part of being a friend is being there for you when you need help.”

Once more, she hugged him. He felt her fingers in his hair as he held her tightly again and he felt a sense of calm run down his spine. “You’re allowed to ask,” she whispered slowly, softly while in his arms. “And we’ll be here for you even when you don’t.”

“Thank you,” he said after a moment.

They pulled away, the colour of rose rising back to his golden cheeks, and he rested his weight on the edge of his table. His papers, temporarily forgotten. Without thinking about it, he reached for her hand and he twined their fingers together. He brushed his thumb along her knuckles.

“How was the talk with Aang?” he asked.

“Hard,” she answered, sighing. She raised her other hand and he took it in a similar way without hesitation. “I don’t really want to talk about it just yet.”

“Yeah, alright,” he said. “But how do you feel? Are you okay?”

“Good?” she said. “But awful at the same time? I mean I’m relieved that it’s out there but I just hate hurting him.” She closed her eyes as she swallowed her own sorrow down. “And I _know_ this hurts him.”

“It would hurt anyone, I get that,” he said.

“I guess it’s time to tell everyone else now.”

“Maybe not right _now_ now…” he said. “Come on, I want to show you something.”

* * *

There were twelve sides to the walls of the Fire Nation Royal Palace.

Its surrounding outer circle was paved stone, where no life grew, for defensive purposes. But in the inner circle of the palace gates, there was a garden. Every side of the wall was a dedicated, meticulously cared for garden that each had its purpose and design. The trees, the shrubs, and mostly all the flora were lush with life all year round, Katara had learned, for the Fire Nation was situated in a part of the world that was close to the sun that vegetation simply had no other choice but to flourish. A near-endless spring and summer, interrupted only by the occasional monsoon and hurricane.

Zuko led her deep down into the garden, beyond the marked paths.

“These gardens are beautiful,” she said, looking up at the multi-coloured canopies, fruits, and blossoms. It was so much more than just green.

“The soil in Caldera City is the most fertile soil in the whole world,” he said as he guided her.

“Why?”

“Because of the volcanoes.”

“There are volcanoes near here?”

“No,” he said. “Caldera City was built on top of a volcano.”

“You—” she started. Almost a laugh in her voice. “You’re kidding, right?”

“What?” he said. “No.”

Katara stopped in her tracks and gave him a look of pure disbelief. He turned around and chuckled as he said, “Don’t worry, it’s been dormant for hundreds of thousands of years.”

“Are you sure?” she asked, arms crossed against her chest.

“That’s what a caldera is—see those rock formations on the edge of the city that make the city look like a crater?” he said, pointing up at the curved rocks. Katara nodded. “Volcanic eruptions did that from thousands of years ago and formed this caldera. The eruptions then made the soil more fertile so we built the capital city here. Abundance and life born from the purest fire.”

“And these gardens?”

“Really well maintained, mostly just to show off to other nobles. A little bit of all the best parts of the Fire Nation grow right here,” he said. “I want to show you one of my favourite parts. We’re almost the—there it is, look!”

He didn’t know how brightly his eyes shone as he raced towards the trees with the shining red leaves that looked like the sunset sky. When the slowly setting sun shone on them, the leaves looked like sunbeams. From its branches hung little fruits that looked as golden as his eyes in the light.

“What kind of trees are these?”

“Sun mangoes,” he said.

“What are sun mangoes?”

“A Fire Nation specialty,” he replied.

"They're so... _yellow_."

“Best kind of mangoes in the world, but you didn’t hear that from me.” She found a small smirk on his lips then and she returned the smug expression. “There are twelve concentrated fruit groves scattered around the outermost circle of Paraiso Gardens.”

Before she could say anything about the trees, she saw him unlacing the main coat of his Fire Lord regalia.

“What are you _doing_?” she asked. Beneath his coat, he wore clothes that looked like the ones he always wore at Ember Island. The only thing that made him look different was that his hair was pushed up and away from his face, the five-pronged crown keeping him looking neat.

“Can you climb?” he challenged, his features painted with smug confidence. He raised a brow, a cocky smile on his face. She decided right then that she liked it when he wore that face. It made her laugh.

“Can I _climb_ ,” she said in retort, rolling her eyes.

Katara started to climb the tree with him, her hands and feet finding their groove as they held on to the rough surface of the tree’s trunk. It was a massive tree and its canopy folded inward, looking as if it were the roof of a hut. It reminded her of the curved roofs of her home.

“Every grove has a mother tree,” he said as he climbed higher and further up. “The surrounding trees are regularly pruned but the main one, like this, is pretty much allowed to reach for the sky. This is one of the oldest trees in the Royal Palace grounds and this spot was my secret hiding place.”

He grunted as he hoisted himself onto what looked like a hidden, wooden platform amidst this massive tree’s sturdy branches. Once he found himself settled, he reached for her hand to pull her up with him. “Come on up.”

She reached for his hand and he pulled her swiftly with a strength that always seemed to surprise her.

“What is this?” she asked as she sat down next to him.

She reached above his head and pulled out the headpiece from his hair and got his hair to fall all around his face in the way that she knew. Zuko shook his head to get his hair into place and Katara smiled and nodded once to approve of the look. He wrapped an arm around her and held her to him and let his legs stretch out. His ankles just about touched the edge of the platform. She nestled closer to him, her head resting just by his chest.

“It’s like a treehouse… except it’s not even really a house, it’s just a floor,” he explained. His free hand dangled just over her arm and she reached for it with the opposite hand, twining their fingers together. “It was all I could manage at the time.”

“A tree… _floor_.”

“It’s not so much a floor as it is a kind of hidden landing. Not much to do here except sit still,” he said. “But it’s nice if you need a quiet, private place.”

“Did you build it yourself?”

“No, I had help,” he said. “My cousin.”

“Lu Ten.”

“How do you—”

“Iroh told me about his son,”

“Yeah,” he said. “I was just a child when we went off to fight in Ba Sing Se. He was supposed to come back and help me finish it. Make it a real treehouse. So I could have a secret place of my own, you know? To think.” He swayed his weight around while they sat and beneath, the wood creaked. “It’s probably not as stable anymore but it’s pretty well hidden and it’s still standing,” he continued. “I found it again yesterday. Higher than I remember but…”

“You can see water from here,” said Katara, pointing out the distance where they could just about see the light reflecting over the water still inside the caldera. “Is that a pond or a hot springs or something?”

“No,” he said. “That’s Bombón Lake.”

“A lake?” she asked. “I thought we were inside a volcano.”

“It’s a lake inside a volcano,” he explained with a casual shrug of her shoulders. “A lot of lakes are manmade, you know.”

“And the volcano that made the Fire Nation is just… surrounded by the ocean,” she tried on.

“Yep,” he said simply. “That’s home.” With his free hand, he pointed over the horizon to where they could just barely see the faintest hint of flat land and greenery. Near that pasture was just a blurry patch of green that looked to be a forest. Overhead, there was the outline of some mountains. “Over there, far to the east outside of the crater’s borders, you can see something like a clearing, can you see it?”

“Yeah?”

“That’s the Okamoto Stables and Equestrian Community, next to the town of Hira’a,” he explained. “A little up north of there, you can just about see the northeastern mountain province, the city of Kidlat. Take a couple of Komodo rhinos to explore that landscape—there’s this amazing line of merchants with the best buttered sweet corn, coconut pies, and peanut brittle just by the main road.”

“You’ll have to take me some time,” she joked.

“It’s a date,” he agreed, much to her surprise.

The way her head spun towards him nearly gave her whiplash. She could barely contain her grin but she kept her lips tightly pressed together. Zuko looked down to her and she felt him kiss her temple once, and again. She hummed, delighting in the gesture.

“It’s beautiful,” she said.

“Makes you wonder,” he said, his tone turning more solemn and quiet.

“Wonder what?”

“Why my forefathers could ever want more than this,” he explained. His gaze was far away as he watched the last drips of sunlight dip farther down and away to the west. The stars that were higher and further on into the heavens were reclaiming their place in the sky now that it was lady night’s turn to reign over the day. He continued, “Why they had to do so many horrible things to get more land and more territories when we already had more than what we needed.”

“You’re still thinking about that meeting,” she said, looking up at him.

“I can’t stop thinking about it,” he explained. “We start getting responses tomorrow and I’ve been told to prepare for resistance.” He shrugged. She pulled on his hand in hers and placed her cheek against the back of it. “Some colonial mayors don’t like this whole peacetime thing.”

“That’s for tomorrow, Zuko,” she tried to say. “You did all you could today.”

“I don’t think so,” he muttered softly. “There’s just one more thing.”

“What?”

His other hand now against her cheek, he pulled her into a kiss.

Katara sighed into him and she felt her shoulders relax. His arms around her felt strong as they held her close but his hand against her cheek was almost shy against her skin, almost still hesitant despite _everything_. She smiled as he kissed her and she kissed him back. She pressed his hand against her cheek closer to her and she felt his thumb just beneath the skin of her closed eyes, gently brushing in a motion that made her knees feel weak.

When they pulled away, they still held each other close.

“I love you,” he told her. “I know talking to Aang today was hard. I know you said you didn’t want to talk about it and we can’t just go to the pier at Ember Island every time we need cool down or be away from the palace but I thought… I thought this would work.”

The first breeze of the new night blew past them, crisp and cool. Above them, they heard the known chirrup of leaves dancing their own melody with the air’s silent symphony. And some kind of peace washed over them when they held each other like this, when they were alone and together like this—with only the sky to bear witness, with only the wind to overhear their whispers.

“Someplace secret and quiet and just ours,” he said.

Katara grinned. “You are _full_ of surprises.”

“I try,” he said, returning her smile with one of his own. Her favourite kind—the one only she could see this clearly.

“Thank you,” she told him. “I love you too.”

* * *

After dinner, the gang was called into a meeting.

True to form, Zuko did not want to use the official throne room for this—a room that still held the energy of his father, a room that still made the hair at the back of his neck stand on edge. This was a family meeting, Suki gathered.

Katara and Zuko were already by the pond where the turtleducks were reportedly usually seen, though she herself had yet to see proof of that. Zuko was lighting the nearby lanterns with his firebending to give them some light. Katara was sitting a little ways next to him. The gardens were stunning to behold.

Her senses told her that there was someone trying to creep up on her. She knew the sound of those uneven footsteps, she knew the gait they took when they tried to adopt some form of stealth despite the crutch. And they might have worked if they were doing anything _serious;_ he was getting quite good with having three legs. Nothing of her posture betrayed her knowledge of him, however, and when he tried to shock her at his sudden appearance to her side, she remained impassive and only quietly amused.

“ _Gotcha!_ ”

“Oh, hi Sokka.”

“Aw,” he said. “I nearly had you that time!”

“I should really keep count of how many times you try to do that instead,” she said. “Considering the grand total of how many times that has worked is _zero_.”

“One day, woman,” he replied. “Just you wait.”

Suki rolled her eyes as she sat down and he sat down next to her, eagerly and automatically wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “Sure, whatever. You’re lucky you’re cute when you try.”

“Anyway, what’s going on?” he asked.

“Beats me.”

Next, she heard Toph with her loud footsteps coming down the stairs. She bent the earth around her to make a resting place for her back and her arms as she sprawled onto the floor to make herself comfortable.

“’ _Sup_.”

“You’re really taking to this Fire Nation royal life, huh,” she said.

“I mean, what’s not to like?” asked the girl. “It’s all the good parts of my old life _and_ Zuko lets me do whatever I want to the gardens. And just you wait until I get to mess with the tunnels. It’s pretty sweet.”

“Do you know what’s going on?”

“No idea,” said Toph. “I mean—they already did the rounds and told us that they’re a _thing_ just before dinner so I don’t know what all this is.”

“Is everyone here?” Katara asked. “Where’s Aang?”

A voice came from above, high on the gazebo’s roof. “Here,” he said. “Sorry I missed dinner.”

“That’s okay,” she replied.

Suki saw Aang was not looking at any of them in the eye, and she met Sokka’s knowing gaze, understanding what they knew between them. Aang leapt downward and sat by the edge of the pond again, dipping his bare toes in the water.

“So… what’s going on?” asked the Avatar.

Katara looked to Zuko and gave him a nod, an encouraging smile.

“Thank you all for coming,” he started, a little too formally. Suki could see just the slightest tremor in him and watched him swallow a breath back. It was like he didn’t quite know what to do with his hands.

“I… you all know that I trust no one in the world more than you guys and… being Fire Lord...” he said. “It’s a lot. It’s all so much that I… I don’t know where to start.” Suki could see just the smallest twitch in his knees. Beside her, she saw Toph sit up, her brows furrowing and jaw tight. Like she was concentrating on something.

“You don't owe me or the Fire Nation anything. None of you are obliged to stay. And I know it’s a lot to ask and I know you all want to go home but—” Zuko continued. “It would mean a lot to me if… if you all stayed. At least for a just little while. A few weeks, maybe.” He licked his lips and looked to Katara. They locked eyes, she nodded at him. _Keep going_ , the gesture said. And he did.

“I—I need help,” he said. “It’s all so much and… I don’t know if I can start doing this right without you all with me.” A pause. A breath. Shared silence between them all. “Will you stay?”

His golden eyes looked to the group and they locked with Sokka first. Suki turned to him and saw that he was looking at his little sister. The siblings shared a look for a moment before he asked, “Katara?”

“You know _I’m_ staying,” she said. “But I thought you’d want to go home.”

He removed his arm from around Suki and started gesturing vibrantly with his hands as he spoke.

“No, no, no, _no_ ,” said Sokka. “I trust Zuko with my life and your life and all but no _way_ am I leaving my baby sister all alone in a palace full of empty rooms with her first boyfriend, no matter how _noble_ and _honourable_ and yadda yadda yadda he is, without big brotherly supervision, nuh uh. No way. Not happening.” Sokka drew a line in the air. “ _Boundaries_.”

Suki stifled a snort of a laugh. “Who do you think you’re kidding? You’re just in it for the free food.”

“Eh,” he said, shrugging, letting his weight rest on his hands that held him up as he sat. “Plus, it’s _Zuko_. Of course I’ll help,” he continued. “Anything you need. As long as you need us, we’ll be here.”

Suki smiled. “So are the Kyoshi Warriors. At least, a dedicated team stationed here with me, of course.” She shrugged and mimicked Sokka’s own posture, though she rested her elbow on his shoulder and shifted her head’s weight against a balled fist. “Figures you might need some extra security you can count on. Of _course_ we’re here for you.”

“Oh, you know I’m in,” said Toph. She spat at a corner without care. “We didn’t just win a war all for a bunch of uppity Fire Nation hot shots with sticks up their butts to mess it all up again,” she said. She crossed her arms together against her chest and blew air to the hair of hers that fell on her face. “And besides, Sparky wouldn’t last one day without me—last time, he nearly didn’t.”

“Hey,” Katara admonished.

“Maybe you wouldn’t have needed the blood healing thing if I was there is all I’m saying.”

“But you weren’t so let’s leave it.”

Throughout all of this, the young Avatar did not say a word. He barely looked at the group as they discussed among themselves. Suki and Zuko looked at each other, both of them noticing, and Zuko looked to the airbender.

“Aang?” he asked. “You’ve been awfully quiet. What do you think?”

“I…” the boy started. “I’m going to need some time to think about it. Excuse me.”

Without another word, the boy got to his feet and walked away. No airbending, no running—he simply walked away with his staff in his hand and wandered deeper and further into the gardens. The gang turned silent as they watched him go. Katara looked up to Zuko and let out a breath.

“I think it’s your turn now,” she told him.

“Right,” he said, nodding.

“It’ll be fine,” she told him. Before he turned away, she reached for his hand and pulled him back a little to make him turn back to her.

“Hey,” she said. “I’m really proud of you.”

“For what?”

“For asking.”

“Was it okay?”

“Yes,” said Katara, smiling as she did. “Of course it was.”

Suki grinned as she watched them and beside her, she saw Sokka’s blue eyes water and widen with endearment as he protruded his trembling lower lip.

“Don’t look at me,” he told her.

She grinned wider.

* * *

He wasn’t used to walking. Aang was a child born to the air and the sky was his floor. He'd leapt and soared before he knew how to take his first real steps—at least, that’s what it felt like. It was always slower on the ground and it was a steadiness that he wasn’t used to. He'd always liked floating more.

All around him, nature blossomed and bloomed in all its glory. There were fireflies that danced by the trees. Beneath them were shining, silver flowers he’d never seen before. When the moonlight touched the dew on the leaves, it looked like smaller stars connecting each flower to each other. He imagined they’re what constellations might look like up close.

He gravitated to them and crouched next to the small blossoms.

“They’re Starlight Tulips.”

Aang looked behind him and saw Zuko standing.

“What?”

“Those flowers,” he replied.” “They’re called Starlight Tulips.”

“Oh,” was all he could say. “How’d you find me?”

“I spent years tracking you, I’m kind of good at it now,” Zuko tried to joke. Aang only blinked at him. “Sorry. How are you doing?”

The boy sighed. “Katara already told me about you two.”

Zuko didn’t say anything to that right away but Aang already knew that he knew. But then the Fire Lord adopted a kinder lilt and asked, “Are you okay?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “I haven’t really seen the two of you together yet so I don’t really know. I just heard Sokka say it and—” he tried to finish but found that he had no other words. “Well, you know, _yeah_.”

“I get it,” Zuko replied.

“How can you _get it_?” he asked. “You have no _idea_ —”

“I only meant I can _imagine_ ,” Zuko tried.

“You don’t _know_ anything.”

“And I don’t pretend to,” he said. “I just wanted to see if you were okay.”

Aang reached for the cool, silver flowers and his fingers only just barely touched the petals. Part of him thought they would be soft — like feathers, like what you'd think clouds would feel like — but they were chilly to the almost-touch. Like trying to hold air.

“I don’t know if I can stay here after all, Zuko,” he said. “I don’t know if I’m ready just yet.”

“That’s okay,” said the Fire Lord. “You’re free to come and go as you like. You’ll always be welcome here.”

“Bet you’ll be glad if I’m not here all the time,” Aang muttered before he could stop himself.

“No, not at all,” said Zuko. “You’re my friend and I care about you. And I meant what I said—that we’re going to rebuild this world and get it back on the right path to peace. And I want that for the both of us too.” He took a step closer to the young airbender. “Could you come with me for a second? I want to show you something.”

Aang looked at him and raised a brow. He huffed, shrugged, and nodded. Zuko led the way and he followed.

Their walk together was silent. The red walls all around them seemed to close in on him as they made their descent to what he could only assume was the lower ground floor of the palace. After a considerable walk, they stopped at a painting of a dragon. Zuko gestured for him to stay back and with a swift motion, he bent fire in a certain pattern for the painting to accept it. The dragon’s eyes glowed and the painting turned into a door that then swung open.

“Woah,” said Aang. “How’d you do that?”

“I discovered a few of these secret chambers a long time ago,” he said. “Some of them are tricky to get into, depending on what's on the other side.”

“Why are you showing me all thi—” he started to say but he stopped talking when Zuko lit the torches in the room with a few simple flicks of his hands. “Wait—those are…” Aang ran towards the cloths hanging by the stands. “These are Air Nomad robes. What _is_ this?”

“I’m having this room and the few others like it cleared out and sorted through. We’re starting with what we have from the Air Nomads,” Zuko replied. “We have relics, statues, old scrolls and letters from a hundred years ago, traditional garb, that sort of stuff… some of it has faded beyond repair but I’m having the Fire Sages repair what’s salvageable. I wasn’t supposed to show you all this until it was ready but I didn’t want you to leave before you saw it.”

The Fire Lord gestured to the wall where there were little cubbies of what must have been hundreds of parchments and scrolls. All around him, things were looking more and more familiar and he found himself surrounded in relics of his past, of his childhood.

Of his _home_.

He felt hot tears in his eyes at recognition of all these things that looked familiar, of all these things that he knew of the world that used to be. Reunited with something he’d thought was long ago gone and forgotten. He'd already mourned them and was dedicated to a lifetime of grief. He picked up a scroll and saw familiar writing. He carefully restored it and picked up another and recognise them just the same. His mouth was agape as he stared all around him.

“When we destroyed the Air Nomads, we sacked them first.”

Aang frowned. “What do you mean _we?_ ”

“ _We_. The Fire Lords of the past,” Zuko agreed. “It was the Fire Lord who ordered the attack on your people. And I’m the Fire Lord now,” he explained.

“What they did is my responsibility to start to fix now. And so much of it can’t ever be fixed, and for that I will never be sorry enough. But I can try. And so can my people. Starting with returning these to you. What brought me to where I am only came about because so much was taken from you. I’ll have some airships prepared with every artefact I can find hidden in these secret chambers when they’re ready to be transported to the Southern Air Temple. I’m betting a few noble families have relics from the attack too, little trophy rooms like this that my grandfather and my father made, and I’ll work on retrieving everything I can find. It’s not much but everything that’s yours and your people’s, I’m giving back to you.”

There was no word for this feeling.

All Aang wanted to do was sink to the floor and cry. He couldn’t stop looking at the walls and the shelves. His breathing was sharp and short, and his teeth chattered. He looked at Zuko and the older boy looked at him with shining, sorrowful eyes, full of remorse and of glee—glee that he could bring this small piece of his home back to him.

The young Avatar started to smile through his tears.

“They’re in the original characters…” he said, picking up another scroll and seeing the writings of his people. “Whaletail Island Fasting, observations by Monk Tang Xu…” he read aloud. He picked up another.

“The… _The Meditations of Monk Gyatso._ ”

Aang sank to his knees and held the scroll delicately with shaking hands. He saw the words and the strokes of ink on the paper and knew them. He knew them and he felt them. He swore he could almost feel his mentor's embrace, the warmth of his breath tickling his ear and the grace of his old, wisened hands that were ready at a moment's notice to cause mischief and mayhem. His breathing was shallow and he heaved as he read, and he couldn’t stop reading. Tears freely fell from his eyes. Next to him, Zuko knelt and put a hand on his shoulder to steady him.

“We can have the original parchments preserved and copied for study,” he said. “You can have as many scholars and builders as you need from us to restore the Air Nomad temples. Just say what you need and I’ll take care of it.”

The boy looked to the Fire Lord with a gratitude so immense, they ought to invent a new word for it. He set the scroll down and hugged Zuko so tightly and so fiercely that he was shaking, that the Fire Lord found it hard to breathe. He made no complaints. When the older boy hugged him back, Aang cried into him.

“Thank you, Zuko. Thank you, thank you, _thank you_ ,” he said as they pulled away. There were tears in the older boy’s eyes too and they smiled at each other. “I really, _really_ needed this right now.”

Zuko smiled, his eyes nearly squinting with how much he smiled. “It’s the _least_ I could do.”

“I think…” said Aang. “I think I _will_ stay a while after all. Help sort out what’s needed before we go anywhere.”

“Of course.”

“And help you.”

“That would mean... so much to me.”

Aang wiped tears from his face and laughed. “You’re a really good person, Sifu Hotman,”

“Spirits sake,” Zuko muttered as he rolled his eyes, but he was laughing too.

And when Aang looked at Zuko now, he no longer found the barest traces of resentment and envy in his heart. He remembered this feeling when he looked at his friend become the Fire Lord, when he tried to remember what it was like to want to hate him, but when he looked at him now… he wondered how anyone ever could.

Knowing what he did of Katara and of who Zuko is now, a different kind of peace settled in him. A final saving grace as the final traces of unrequited love was lifted and erased from his heart, carried away by the wind, replaced by this sense of gratitude. Like a forgiveness like he’d never known, like a blessing he’d never have guessed he was capable of. Like faith.

If it had to be anyone else, Aang was happy it was him.

And he was finally, finally able to let go.

Grey eyes met gold and Aang said to him, “I think we’re going to be just fine.”

* * *

What time was it?

She didn’t know. Time worked differently in darkness and in isolation, and she was kept deep underground. She hadn’t seen the sun in days. Days? Weeks? Who knew. Part of her doubted if she would ever see the sun again. Every part of her felt weakened by it. She groaned and willed herself to the only kindness afforded left to her, the perfect kindness that only sleep offered—the only freedom she guessed she would ever be allowed again.

But then, those footsteps.

Her head snapped up at the first sign of them. They were turning a corner now, getting closer to her cell. Her heart raced and she growled at the sound of the first door opening.

She knew those footsteps, even if they came at her from miles away. Light but firm.

 _Weak, weak, weak_.

Her head hung low as her heavy hair flowed well past her shoulders. She was on her knees by design as the chains that bound her arms to the floor could only reach that high. When she looked up and through the bars of her cell, she saw only a hooded figure with a familiar frame standing before her.

She smirked at the sight, the remnants of power and rage flickering and sputtering at her fingertips.

“How kind and very gracious of the new Fire Lord to humble me in my quarters,” she spat. “You’ll have to excuse the décor. So hard to get good help these days.”

“ _Azula,_ ” said Zuko. He removed his hood and looked down to his little sister.

“You took… _everything_ ,” she said, her voice dark and rough like she had been screaming for days. “My crown, my throne…” she listed. Fresh tears fell from her eyes and she could not even make the motion of wiping them away. Hatred burned in her veins—pure, blazing, murderous _hatred_.

“You took my mother… Mai and Ty Lee… _you took everything away from me!_ ”

“I didn’t take anything or anyone from you,” he said. “You lost them all yourself.”

“Oh! Is that so?” she exclaimed, vowels too prolonged, too gleefully cackled that it made Zuko take a step back.

‘ _Good. Let him cower._ ’

“Come here to gloat?” she mocked. “Maybe we’re more alike than I thought.”

“No,” he said, his voice grave and tired. “I just wanted to see how you were doing.”

“Wanted to see me in chains you put me in?” she yelled. “Covered in my own filth? Go ahead and look and you remember!” she said told him, pushing herself towards the gates and pulling her shoulder as she did. She screamed at the pain, falling to her face, and just as quickly she got herself back up. Azula pulled her chains and threatened, “I’ll make sure you do when I take everything from _you_.”

“I didn’t want this for you, Azula,” said Zuko, his hands by the bars of her cell.

“It was _your_ order.”

“You bit a guard’s finger off!” he yelled. “You gave me no choice!”

“He was trying to strangle me!” she screamed. “You’re all against me! And you’ll all pay! _You’ll all pay!_ ”

“I didn’t want this for you!” her brother tried to reason, he pleaded. “If… you just calmed down, we’ll talk about getting you somewhere better!”

“I don’t want _anything_ you have to give!”

“I never wanted this, Azula,” he told her. “I’m trying here but you have to let me.”

“Get your ugly face out of my sight,” she said, hocking a spit and spitting at his feet. “I never want to see you again.”

Zuko looked at her and lingered for just a second more. Then, he put his hood back up and turned to leave.

“Is it true?” she croaked, just before he opened the main door. “The Avatar didn’t kill father?”

“No,” said her brother. He did not turn to look back at her. “He just took his bending away.”

The sound that followed will haunt Zuko for nights and weeks to come, she knew.

For just then, Azula laughed.

A little, at first, and it grew slowly. Louder and louder and louder. More malicious and more sinister than before. A cruel cackle that bounced through the walls of the prison tower.

“You all surprise me,” she said. “You’re all even bigger fools than I _thought_ you were.”

Still, he did not turn back to face her. She could tell that he was curving his shoulders, that his back was tensing at every word she spoke.

“Do you _really_ think people followed father because he was a firebender?” she mocked. “If that was the only reason, I would have been the Phoenix King long ago!”

“Good night, Azula.”

Zuko opened the door.

“You’ll be dead in a fortnight, you know!” she said with that same vindictive, girlish glee he’d heard so long ago. When they found out their father intended to kill him at their grandfather’s behest. “I only wish I could _watch_. Better yet, I wish I could be the one doing the killing.”

“You already almost did.”

He left through the main door and just as he was closing it, Azula struggled against her chains to throw more words at her brother. More bile, more haunting ghosts that would not let him sleep at night. Words she knew that would haunt him like poison just looking for the right part of him to kill.

“You won’t break me in here, you know!” she screamed. “Send your worst, I don’t care! I won’t break! I’d rather _die!_ ”

“I didn’t put you in here to be broken,” he said, his hand by the door.

“Oh, Zuzu,” she said. “What do you think prisons are _supposed_ do?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! Happy zutara week 2020! 
> 
> I always did say I'd come back to this story. Who knew it would take a pandemic for me to start posting it? 
> 
> Please, please let me know what y'all think! So excited to hear from you all. :)


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